


"And You May Find Yourself..."

by Inorganic_soot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oblivious Hinata Shouyou, Oblivious Kageyama Tobio, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Possessive Behavior, Practice Kissing, Takes place before To The Top!!, The Pocky Game, Underage - Freeform, Underage Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25347544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inorganic_soot/pseuds/Inorganic_soot
Summary: Hinata and Kageyama play the Pocky Game. Inevitably, things escalate.In other words, Kageyama always knew his competitiveness was going to be his downfall.(You know the fics where Kageyama and Hinata are both very oblivious and ‘practice’ kissing? This is just another one of those.)
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 6
Kudos: 87





	"And You May Find Yourself..."

**Author's Note:**

> Haikyuu is ending, so I thought it might be good to write a fanfic about my 2 favourite volleyball dumbasses.
> 
> Title is a reference to the Talking Heads song "Once in a Lifetime." Watch the video; it's a whole ass quarantine mood.
> 
> Disclaimer: It took some deliberation but I decided to post this fanfic under my problematic fic account in the end. This fanfic depicts minors in a consensual sexual relationship. If that squicks you out, please don't interact with the fic! I want everyone to have a safe reading experience. Minors, please do not interact! If you're an anti, IDK what to tell you except that I'm not even attracted to men, let alone sweaty, gross teenage boys. This is a work of fiction and doesn't reflect any of my own desires etc. I'm just bored as fuck in quarantine.

“I bet you’re too chicken!” Hinata exclaims, bobbing excitedly from foot-to-foot.

Kageyama glares down at him. It’s not his best glare; there isn’t enough menace to it. And truthfully, his exhaustion makes it come off as more of a heavy scowl instead. “I’m not,” he says. He’s ready to beat Hinata at any of the random challenge he’s thought up, even if he’s really tired. There’s a reason he’s got a lead in the series of competitions they have going. He can be just as dumb as Hinata if he wants. “I’ll play your stupid game.”

Hinata falters mid-step, suddenly still, “huh, I didn’t think you’d actually say yes.” Just as suddenly, he flits back into motion, skipping along.

Kageyama glares again; the first one was just practice, this one is for real. Hinata barely notices. “Why not, dumbass?”

Hinata scrunches up his face—thinking always looks like it takes his maximum effort; it’s no wonder he avoids it. “Dunno. We just did some extra-extra practice today. I thought you might be too tired.”

“Then why did you offer?” Kageyama’s sure his eye is twitching. They’re nearing where Hinata keeps his bike, under the shade of an oak tree. Kageyama slows down minutely. He doesn’t let himself think of the reason why.

Hinata shrugs. “It’s Pocky Day,” he says, like that’s all the reason he needs.

“So, uh,” Kageyama clears his throat, “how do you play the Pocky Game?”

Hinata bursts out into laughter. Kageyama stares at Hinata, soaking in the sight of Hinata’s upturned face, the unrepentant joy of him, bright enough that it should be lurid but isn’t somehow. Hinata pauses, looking at Kageyama in horror. Did Hinata notice it then? Has he been caught? Did Hinata finally see that awful thing in his eyes? Kageyama shifts his expression, until it’s on the edge of harsh. Deflect. He has to deflect, like confusing an opposing blocker.

“Kageyema, you can’t be serious.” Kageyama’s unimpressed look does not abate. Internally, he shoots a fervent prayer to his ancestors; please, for the love of god, don’t let Hinata become smart now. “Oh my god, where do you even live? The Pocky Game is everywhere.”

It takes a beat for him to catch up with Hinata’s line of thought, which is as blessedly single-minded as usual. Kageyama wants to sigh in relief. He should never have worried. Hinata becoming smart would probably be a sign of the apocalypse. The relief is short-lived, turning quickly into anger as Hinata starts poking him.

“Ugh—stop!” Kageyema snaps, jerking away. “Why should I know what this stupid game is?” Kageyama snaps at him. Stupid Hinata and the stupid feelings he elicits in Kageyema’s stomach every time he touches him. The bastard.

“Because—it’s like. It’s like a game everyone knows. Like tag. You’re just born knowing. Or, I guess, it could be Pocky’s relentless advertising.” They’ve reached the tree now. Hinata’s bike and both their schoolbags are lying on the ground where they left them.

“So, are you gonna tell me how to play or not?” Kageyama asks.

Hinata’s cheeks colour. The blush clashes with his orange hair. The exhaustion must be catching up to him. It’s endearing enough that Kageyama is filled with the urge to spike a volleyball with violent intensity. “Lemme get out the Pocky first.” Hinata leans down and rummages through his bag. Kageyama tactfully does not stare at his ass for too long.

Kageyama slides onto the ground with a soft thump, back resting on the rough trunk of the tree. “I’m waiting,” he says and reaches out takes a sip from his water-bottle. It’s starting to get cold now, but Hinata and him had trained hard enough that they’re both end sweaty despite the autumn chill in the air.

“Aha! I knew I had some with me.” Hinata smiles, holding up a packet of Pocky triumphantly. It’s crumpled at the corners from being in his bag for the entire day.

“Okay, so how do you play?” Kageyama asks. “It’s not gonna take _too_ long, is it?” The sun is setting pretty rapidly. As much as Kageyama doesn’t want Hinata to leave, he doesn’t want him biking up a mountain in the dark either.

Hinata flushes again—or maybe that’s just the rust of dusk settling on him—and slides down next to Kageyama. “Have you ever seen that movie, the Lady and the Tramp?”

“What?” Kageyama says, flummoxed.

Hinata babbles on, stolidly avoiding eye-contact, “You know, the one with two dogs? There’s that scene where they’re eating spaghetti and their faces get closer and closer and they kinda kiss. It’s like that but with Pocky and also a competition.”

Kageyama keeps looking at him and feels an unfortunate lightness in his chest, like he’s at the top of a roller-coaster and is just that terrible half-a-second away from falling. “Okay,” he says carefully.

“We don’t have to—”

“How do you win?” Kageyama cuts him off. He’s blushing too, he thinks. His face is definitely warmer than it should be.

“Wait, you still wanna play?” Hinata asks, shocked.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Kageyama answers, his fingers tightening on a clump of grass. Dumbass Hinata probably doesn’t even realise what he’s done, what he’s just offered Kageyama like it’s nothing. This stupid game might just be his only chance at kissing Hinata ever.

Hinata stares at him, wide-eyed, “Cause there’s the danger of us kissing!”

Kageyama’s heart picks up, as loud and fast as the thump of footfalls on a court. Why would Hinata ever want to kiss Kageyama? No, that would be gross, something so ridiculous that Hinata would make a game out of avoiding it. Hinata wants to kiss pretty girls like Kiyoko-senpai or Yachi-san. He inhales through his nose, affecting calm as much as he can, “Then why did you offer if you’re just gonna chicken out like a coward?” Kageyama goads. He’s not really good at people, but he knows the exact strings he needs to pluck to get Hinata going.

Hinata makes an odd noise next to him: half strangled yell and half whimper. He looks up at Kageyama, through the fan of his eyelashes, brown eyes blazing. “I’m not gonna lose to you,” he says.

Kageyama isn’t going to lose. Either this ends with them kissing or it ends with him getting another point, widening the lead he has right now. It’s a win-win. Kageyama smirks (and conscientiously ignores the fact that he’s the loser here, because what dumbass crushes on _Hinata?_ )

Hinata tears open the packet, and pulls out a stick, “first one to move their face away loses.” He shoves the chocolate end into his mouth. He turns to face Kageyama, chin pointed up defiantly.

Kageyama’s palms grow sweaty. He places a hand on the ground between them and leans down, taking the other end of the Pocky into his mouth. It’s a little absurd. From this close, Hinata’s face is blurring in front of him, a water-wash of orange and yellow that’s dotted with freckles. He looks up, and their eyes meet—

Kageyama is left in the very strange position of a Pocky sticking out of his mouth while Hinata is practically howling with laughter. This is not how he expected his evening to go. He waits for Hinata to calm down.“I-I’m sorry. It’s just you looked so serious, and there was a Pocky in your mouth. I can’t—it’s still there—” Hinata clutches his stomach, effervescing into a final fit of giggles.

Kageyama finishes the Pocky. “That’s a win for me,” he says. He doesn’t know whether Hinata cracking up at just the sight of him is a good sign. He feels like it isn’t, but there’s something about Hinata when he’s laughing that makes Kageyama feel warm and glowy inside, like a fire-fly.

“That didn’t count,” Hinata says, affronted.

“You pulled away first, dumbass,” Kageyama says with a certain relish. As much as Hinata’s joy makes him feel good, beating him at these stupid challenges is pretty nice too. “That’s my win.”

Hinata can’t argue with this. Rules are rules. “Best 2 out of 3,” he says quickly, already taking out another stick from the packet.

“I’ll be nice to you and agree,” Kageyama says. He’s gonna win this challenge anyway, might as well extend the length of time he can bask in Hinata’s closeness. He hopes that isn’t creepy.

“Ready,” Hinata says, and places the chocolate end into his mouth with such decisiveness that it’s like he’s getting ready to go to war.

Kageyama takes the other end into his mouth. It’s easier this time. The closeness isn’t as sudden and strange. He takes a small nibble forward. Hinata, however, doesn’t seem to have any inhibitions. He races full-face, biting past the center and he’s almost to Kageyama’s mouth and this is too much, too fast—

“We’ve tied,” Hinata says with great satisfaction, as Kageyama wrenches himself back. Kageyama wants to throw the grass he’s plucked out from the ground at him.

“Get the next one out,” Kageyama says, focus narrowing.

“Match point,” Hinata murmurs, as he takes out the third Pocky and places it into his mouth.

Kageyama takes the other end. This time he won’t lose. He won’t get another chance. He bites quickly, steadily, pushing his way to the middle. Hinata moves closer too, blurring like a smudge of highlighter fluid until he’s all Kageyama can see. Bright enough to burn. He doesn’t want him to pull back. They’re so close now—their noses brush and then their—

Their lips touch. A hot spark flashes through Kageyama. It’s like the first time they hit a quick together. Sudden, charged, like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky. Hinata’s mouth on his. It’s a strange feeling, not so much sensation as the idea of it. There’s chocolate sweetness in his mouth, and Hinata’s lips are chapped but soft. It’s so light, so delicate. In another second it will be over. He closes his eyes, commits it to memory. His hand reaches up, uncontrolled, for Hinata’s shoulder.

Hinata pulls back and rubs his lips with the back of his hand vigorously. He’s so red that Kageyama can’t even see the faded freckles on the bridge of his nose as he scrunches up his face, “Wait, who won that round?”

“What?” Kageyama asks, vaguely dazed. He’d just kissed Hinata. With his mouth. He needs a moment.

Hinata looks at him like he’s stupid, which right now Kageyama can admit he is, but so is Hinata, that’s half of what makes him so attractive, “Who wins a round if we both kiss?”

“Dumbass,” Kageyama says automatically, without much heat, his fingertips pressed against his lips. Hinata’s stare turns strange, vaguely constipated like he’s on the verge of noticing something. Sometimes, Hinata can be terrifyingly astute. This is dangerous. That’s the kick Kageyama’s brain needs to re-start, stuttering and chugging like the engine in a 40-year-old car barely making it up an incline. “How would I know who won? You’re the one who introduced me to the game like five minutes ago.”

Hinata doesn’t answer, still thoughtful. He cocks his head to the side, considering. Kageyama refuses to make eye-contact with him. “Hey, Kageyama, was that your first kiss?”

The car rolls back down the mountain. The engine will never recover. Kageyama doesn’t answer. Instead, he falls back on his instincts. It’s fight or flight. Clearly, he can’t kill Hinata because he has no weapon and the idiot could just climb up a tree and call the police. Kageyama doesn’t think there’s a volleyball league in prison either, so that option is out. The only choice he has left is running away. He makes to get up, but he’s too slow. Hinata’s hand reaches and out grips his arm with surprising strength. “Kageyama,” he says. And he still has that strange look on his face: eyes flat, almost menacing.

“No,” Kageyama says, but it’s barely believable because he’s a terrible liar. And it’s also pretty clear he was also just about to escape as fast as his legs could carry him.

“It was!” The menacing expression melts of Hinata’s face like it was never there. He’s smiling again, but not meanly; he’s not mocking Kageyama. His small hand is still on Kageyama’s bicep, hot like warm metal. Kageyama doesn’t shrug him off.

“Does it matter? You’re just trying to distract me from the fact that I won.”

“It’s a tie,” Hinata says airily, like he doesn’t care anymore. “Neither of us backed down, so that’s the only result that makes sense. We could try another round—” Kageyama’s mind supplies him with images of him and Hinata going for tie-breaker after tie-breaker. Kiss after kiss. Hinata’s warm hands holding both of his arms still, pulling them closer. His hot, sweet breath as he’d whisper into Kageyama’s mouth: Another! Another! Like he wants Kageyama’s kisses as much as his tosses. The car spins wildly out of control. Crashes into a ravine. Here lies Kageyama’s brain, dearly departed. “—but I think you’re the one trying to distract me!”

“Why,” Kageyama says, thoughts still fuzzy, “would I do that?”

“Because you’re embarrassed.” Of course, Hinata had picked up on it. It was just Kageyama’s luck that Hinata was an idiot at everything except getting under his skin. “The king of the court doesn’t like being caught with his pants down!”

Fearfully, Kageyama looks down. His pants are still very much on. But, by the grace of all good things, his Hinata-fantasy-world detour has shown no outward effects. “I hate you, Hinata,” he says, and he means it a little.

“It’s okay, Kageyama,” Hinata says sunnily, patting Kageyama’s back, “that was my first kiss too.”

“What,” Kageyama says. Couldn’t Hinata give him one moment? Just so he can process everything?

“Couldn’t you tell?” Hinata frowns, “I guess not. How would you know?” He says it flippantly, like every word out of his mouth isn’t slowly pushing Kageyama’s world off its axis. “I’m just surprised is all. You’ve had like ten girls confess to you already.”

Kageyama makes a grunting noise. He can’t keep up. Hinata’s won again and he doesn’t even know it. “So? I don’t have enough time to go around kissing girls. Most of them don’t even like volleyball.”

Hinata nods. He’s the only other person in the world who’d accept the excuse that extra volleyball practice is worth blowing off pretty girls who like him. Kageyama supposes he’s lucky. Anyone else would call bullshit, and they wouldn’t be completely wrong to. “That sucks,” Hinata pauses for a beat, looking out at the darkening sky. “It’s kinda sad how I'm probably not gonna have a girlfriend in high-school.”

“What do you need a girlfriend for?” Kageyama mutters with surprising vehemence.

Hinata elbows him in the side. He doesn’t do it very hard, but his elbows are very pointy. Kageyama resists rubbing the side of his stomach. “Don’t be stupid, Kageyama. I need a girlfriend in high-school so that I can-can—” Hinata splutters. There is a certain satisfaction at seeing him for a loss of words. Now he has an inkling of how Kageyama has felt this entire conversation.

“Can what?” Kageyama says sardonically, “learn how to kiss?”

The sarcasm in his tone flies directly over Hinata’s head (there’s a short joke there, if he’s willing to look for it). “Yeah! So I can learn how to kiss and hold hands!” Hinata exclaims. “So I don’t embarrass myself when I finally meet the girl of my dreams!”

“The girl of your dreams?” Kageyama echoes.

“Yeah,” Hinata says excitedly, rocketing up like a fire-cracker, “she’ll be cool and she’ll like volleyball just as much as me!”

“I think you’re probably looking to marry an actual volleyball. At least, that would be easier to find than your imaginary dream girl,” Kageyama replies.

Hinata sticks out his tongue at him. “Shut up, Kageyama. She’s out there somewhere.” Then his face falls, “Wait, what if she doesn’t want anything to do with me ‘cause I kissed her like an idiot after our first practice match.”

Kageyama ignores the fact that Hinata’s idea of a perfect first date is a volleyball practice match. In truth, it’s because he can’t think of a better first date than that either. “I don’t think she’d care.” Well, she shouldn’t. If she saw how fast and high Hinata could jump and wasn’t half-in-love after that then she didn’t deserve him.

“You don’t know girls,” Hinata says hopelessly, flopping back down beside him like a sad starfish. “They don’t wanna date guys who don’t what they’re doing.”

Exhaustion manifests itself strangely on Hinata, makes him swing between over-excited and morose as quick as a heart-beat. Hinata is hard to predict usually, but once he’s like this it’s impossible. Any small thing could throw him off. He’ll get over it the moment he gets some sleep. Still, Hinata looked so sad lying there. Kageyama knows he must be very tired. He represses the urge to smooth back Hinata’s hair and grabs another fist full of grass instead. “So, then get a girlfriend to practice on!”

Hinata seems even unhappier with Kageyama’s response, “I don’t wanna use a girl like that.” Hinata says, and he turns to look at Kageyama so harshly, so covetously that it’s hard to breathe, “That’s besides the point, I don’t have girls lining up to give me homemade lunches like you do.”

“Well,” Kageyama starts, and then licks his lips, breathes out again. “Well, if you can’t a girl you want to practice on—” he doesn’t know quite where he’s going with this. Only he does, and he can’t stop himself. Hinata’s eyes are on him, still jealous and greedy. “Uh, we could practice on each other.”

Hinata is silent. Kageyama’s an idiot for saying anything. Hinata must know now. He must have figured it out. He’s not stupid.

“Just, uh, forget about that,” Kageyama says and he levers himself off the ground. Hinata’s hand is on him again, with that same strange strength. Kageyama overbalances and falls down beside him. “What the hell, Hinata?”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you would fall.” Hinata says, and he doesn’t sound apologetic at all. He sounds tense, tight. Weird. Kageyama’s never heard him sound like that before. Hinata must be more tired than he thought. “Do you really mean it?” Hinata asks him. His face is close. Too close. Not close enough. His eyes are so bright in the growing dark. Kageyama can’t get enough of him.

Kageyama heart batters against his chest, “Yeah, well, it’s nothing we haven’t done before.” It’s meant to come off as a joke. It doesn’t; his voice is too flat for that even at the best of times.

Hinata looks at him again, with unknown intent, “I guess not.” He lets go of Kageyama.

“It’s pretty dark out,” Kageyama says, voice pitched up.

Hinata nods, gets up, and then, quite suddenly, smiles. “I better get back. Practice same time tomorrow?” He sticks out his hand.

Kageyama takes it and pulls himself up, “Yeah. Sounds good. Text me when you make it home. I don’t want you to die as roadkill before Nationals.”

“Ugh, you’re worse than Daichi. I’ll be fine,” Hinata says, and throws one leg across his bike, speeding off.

Kageyama watches him go.

* * *

Hinata sends him a gif of a dancing pocky half-an-hour later, when Kageyama is midway through dinner. He’s survived the trip back. Kageyama’s face twitches.

“Everything alright, dear?” His mom asks, concerned. “You look a little feverish.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kageyama says, and flips his phone over. “Just tired. Think I’m gonna go to sleep early.”

“You shouldn’t train so hard. Can’t you take just this one weekend to relax?” She says and reaches out to smooth back his hair. Her hand is soft and small, yet very comforting.

Kageyama grunts, “I know my limits. And I like volleyball.”

“I know you do,” she sighs. She’s worried about him. She has been since he was a kid and was no good at making any friends. It’s only gotten worse since that untouched set from his time at Kitagawa Daiichi.

“I’m meeting someone tomorrow,” Kageyama says. Granted, it’s to practice volleyball and, perhaps, something else—

Kageyama shakes the thought from his head.

“Oh, are you cold? I’ll turn up the heating—” His mother makes to get up

“It’s fine, mom. I’m not cold. Don’t worry,” he says reaching out to stop her.

She sits back down. “You’re my youngest baby. I always get worried a little extra for you. Now, who are you meeting tomorrow?”

“Hinata. The boy from the volleyball club.”

“The jumping Hinata?” His mother knows exactly who he is. Kageyama has, in the past, perhaps complained vocally about him and his stupid gravity-defying jumps over dinner a couple of times. He’d shut up about it when his older sister, on her first evening back from college, had said it sounded like he had a crush.

“There’s only one Hinata I know.”

“I didn’t know he was your friend,” she sounds quite pleased.

Kageyama grunts in response. Saying yes would make her happier, but it might kill him.

“Have some more rice, Tobio. It looks like you’re growing again.”

* * *

Kageyama takes a shower after dinner. He thinks about soaking in the bath after, but he’s too keyed up. He changes into his pyjamas and heads to his room. Maybe he should get started on some of his homework.

He makes some headway through math. Not much, but enough to feel satisfied even though he’s been glancing at his phone every five seconds. Hinata hasn’t sent him anything after the pocky gif. This isn’t unusual. Hinata might be a serial-emailer, who’d engaged in a war of attrition over obtaining Kageyama’s contact details, but once he’d extracted the information he seemed to respect the fact that Kageyama wasn’t much of an online communicator—or communicator in general.

Maybe he is just tired. He’s practiced a lot today. He should rest. He can’t afford to get sick in the run up to Nationals. He flips off the switch and lies down in bed. He pulls up the covers around him, closes his eyes, and waits for exhaustion to pull him under. It’ll only be a moment now, and then he’ll be asleep.

He waits. And waits. A n d w a i t s.

It doesn’t work. He’s got too much on his mind. He tugs his blanket tighter around him and curls onto his side. It’s Hinata’s fault he’s like this. Hinata. He can’t get him out of his head. This has happened before, but usually his training regime is rigorous enough that he goes to sleep before his brain starts acting weird.

He thinks back to the evening, so few hours ago, but it feels like a lifetime, feels like it’s only been a second. His pointer finger slides across his lip. He knows what a kiss feels like now. Not just any kiss, but a kiss from Hinata.

Did Hinata really mean what he said. Did he really agree to Kageyama’s ridiculous “kissing practice” plan? Was he joking? Should Kageyama bring it up again? No. No, that would be a terrible idea. They’ll probably just ignore this whole incident anyway. It’ll be forgotten, except for those twinges of memory that would come from seeing a box of Pocky. One day, they might even laugh about it.

Kageyama thinks of Hinata laughing again, lit by the setting sun, swathed in warm honey, red and gold. He laughs so often, so freely. Kageyama wants to kiss him while he’s laughing, press him down and taste his mouth when it’s so soft and happy. Would he taste sweet? Like the sugar-chocolate of a Pocky stick? Would he taste like salt and sweat? After practice he’d probably taste like a mixture of both. Salty and sweet. All for Kageyama to taste and kiss.

What if Hinata actually meant it. Kageyama chest aches sweetly. He knows this is wishful thing, but what if—

What if Hinata pressed him to the earth beneath the oak tree and asked him about other kinds of practice?

Shit. He shouldn’t think this way about a teammate—especially when it’s _Hinata_. Hinata, who can barely receive or spike. Hinata, who is somehow almost as bad at school as he is. Hinata, who jumps so high it’s like he’s thrown off the chains of gravity. Hinata who has so much faith in him that he’d hit his tosses with his eyes closed. Hinata, who kissed him, who held his arm with his hot hands and pulled him down to lie beside him. Hinata, who looks at him with hunger.

Kageyama knows the hunger isn’t for him. It’s for the spikes he gives to Hinata; it's those breathless moments in the air that Hinata is so desperate for. He can pretend though. It would be easy. He rubs the swell of his bottom lip again and imagines Hinata’s soft mouth and greedy hands. Carefully, gently, he slides his hand beneath his blanket and thumbs at the waistband of his shorts. He’s already half-hard, just from thinking of Hinata. There’s no use dragging it out. He cups himself and closes his eyes, entrusts himself to the Hinata of his fantasies.

Would they practice more than kissing? It stands to reason that they would. Why shouldn’t they? Hinata would instigate it probably. He hasn’t got an ounce of patience in him. If Hinata actually wanted him, he’d slide his hands down Kageyama pants in a second. Maybe in the club-room in the morning when they’re the only ones there. He’d crowd Kageyama up against the door, pull him down by the scruff of his t-shirt, and tell him they were doing another kind of practice today.

Kageyama’s breath falters in his chest. He’s touching himself for real now, stroking his dick to the thought of Hinata’s brown eyes wide with want. They way he’d push and press Kageyama until he was happy with him. Like that Kageyama! Touch me like that! They’d kiss with open mouths, and then Kageyama would finally be able to taste Hinata’s tongue, enticing and soft and pink; Kageyama’s been dreaming of it ever since he saw Hinata so hungry for a toss that he licked his lips. He doesn’t know how tongues and mouths would work in real life, but porn makes it look so easy, so wet and hot. His tongue against Hinata’s. Hinata’s hand fisting in his hair, in his shorts, rubbing Kageyama with hard, sharp strokes. Kageyama hisses, speeding up. Hinata would be fast too, almost rough. He’d push Kageyama to his limit.

Kageyama suppresses a whimper. He wouldn’t do that in front of Hinata, so he won’t do it here. His other hand grips the sheet tightly. He wouldn’t give Hinata the satisfaction. He’d pull back and look into Hinata’s eyes, revel in the heat he’d find there, the pure avarice. Hinata wants as much as he does: as terribly, as sharply. He’s hungry, ravenous, always asking for more and more and more. And Kageyama can give it to him. He’d tuck his the curl of his index finger beneath Hinata’s chin, keep his face upturned. The only thing he’d be able to look at is Kageyama. He’s the one who should get all of Hinata’s greed. It makes sense. He’s the only one who can satisfy it. He kicks off his blanket, sweat pooling at dip in his back and under his arms.

Hinata would smile, that special one. The one Kageyama only gets. Loose and easy, like he knows what Kageyama wants, and he wants it too. Like worrying about anything is meaningless. Kageyama sighs, lets the spike of heat arch through him. He’s leaking a bit now. It makes a slick noise when he moves his hand. Would Hinata mention it? He’d probably be wetter if Hinata was here. Ah! Kageyama, you want it _this_ badly. Kageyama wouldn’t nod. He wouldn’t say anything. He wouldn’t need to. Hinata would know like he always does. He’d speed his hand up, like Kageyama is doing now, easing the foreskin over the head of his cock and then back down. The pre-come makes the slide smooth, and he lengthens his strokes, feels his body tighten, from the flex of his toes to the scrunch of his face, twisted and curled up, thinking of the twist and curl of Hinata’s smile. The tension releases, and he’s coming, shivering, making a mess of his stomach. He strokes himself through it and imagines Hinata murmuring yes, like that. I want that.

He collapses back into his bed. Coming brings with it a brief and bright moment of clarity. He’ll have to clean himself up before he goes to sleep. At least he feels a little more normal now, as long as he doesn’t think too hard about Hinata.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, let's see how this one goes!
> 
> If anyone wants to follow my very, very, very problematic twitter (read: incest & dubcon & what-have-you) it's [ @wub_bubzz ](https://twitter.com/bub_wubzz)


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